


Connect The Dots

by Peanut_Butter_Octopus



Category: Captain Underpants Series - Dav Pilkey
Genre: A lot of characters being wholesome and adorable, Arguing, Krupp doesn't know what to do with his life, Oblivious parents, Sickfic, Slightly Neglectful Parents, chickenpox, etc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-19 14:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut_Butter_Octopus/pseuds/Peanut_Butter_Octopus
Summary: An outbreak of chickenpox at Jerome Horwitz begins, and it brings about excitement, adventure, and a thrilling experience for all involved. Memories are found, pieced together, allowing all involved to "Connect the dots". Eh? Ehh??co-written by http://guiltyhipster.tumblr.com/Note: inspired by animatic by the molina twins https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWdlgSTFLC4Another Note: Nurse Offstill is guiltyhipster's OCEnjoy!





	1. Spotty Conversation

It was a chilly Tuesday morning in mid-February, and George and Harold were sitting in class, scribbling out panels for their next comic book. 

 

“You know, we could try doing the action lines in red pen,” Harold said, his feet on his desk, legs crossed. George beamed with excitement at that idea, and nodded in agreement. 

 

“This is gonna be one of the best comics we’ve done yet!” George said, his voice airy with anticipation. Harold handed him another sheet of filled panels to add words to, before starting up on another sheet. 

 

George scrambled into place, and ushered Harold into the same position as Miss Ribble walked into the room, the rest of the class going completely still as well. 

 

“Okay, time to work on today’s material which is… long division, and we aren’t breaking for gym until everyone gets a hold of the concept,” Miss Ribble droned on, glaring at George and Harold during the tail end of her statement. 

 

Harold sighed, resting his head on his cheek, until he surveyed the room with his eyes, and watched Bobby, a boy that sits behind Melvin, fidget in his seat, furiously scratching his back with his pencil. 

 

“Bobby’s sure itchin’ with excitement to do long division, huh?” Harold whispered to George, finding the sight both humorous and confusing. 

 

“Math isn’t Bob’s thing, he’s probably just itchin’,” George said, rolling his eyes as Miss Ribble handed him his long division worksheet. Cracking his knuckles, George began to scrawl out random numbers, before writing his name in cursive on the top of his paper. 

 

Bobby was starting to get erratic with his scratching, eventually grabbing a pair of scissors out of his desk and continuing scratching his back and abdomen without removing his shirt. 

 

“Robert, that’s enough. Control yourself and finish your worksheet,” Miss Ribble said, completely monotone, as she began to fall asleep at her desk, leaning back and snoring. 

 

“You alright, Bobby?” George asked, now that Miss Ribble was asleep, no one really had to worry about getting in trouble so long as Melvin didn’t open his snitch mouth, and that wouldn’t happen so long as he had math to keep him busy. 

 

“N-not really-mnh- it really itches, and I can’t…. seem to scratch it in the right spots! It feels like it’s in a pattern, and I just want it to stop,” Bobby complained, halting his unsuccessful scratch fest to lean back in his chair and pant, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. 

 

“Aw man, that sucks. Maybe you should go to the nurse. She can give you somethin’ to make it stop itching,” Harold suggested. “You don’t look too good anyhow.”  

 

Bobby nodded, and just as he got up to head to the nurse, the bell rang for the students to head to gym. Welp, he could always ask Mr. Meaner when they got to the gymnasium. 

 

The entire class rushed out of the classroom, right past a still-snoozing Miss Ribble. 

 

Filing into the gym, Mr. Meaner ushered all the fourth graders against the bleachers on the left side. 

 

“Today, since I don’t feel like teaching you anything important or bringing out equipment for you to play a sport, you’re gonna run laps until the bell rings,” Mr. Meaner announced, sitting on a bleacher and taking out a cookie from his pocket, stuffing his face. 

 

The fourth graders all groaned, and began to run laps from the door to the gym, to the door away from the gym, back and forth, back and forth, until eventually everyone stopped when a mysterious  _ THUD _ shot up from the center of their crowd. 

 

It was Bobby. He had collapsed and was lying on his back on the floor of the gym. Sweat, which had coated his entire body, was now puddling around him as he stayed put, panting and staring at the ceiling. 

 

“Mr. Meaner!” a random girl called out to snap the inattentive gym teacher back to reality. 

 

Mr. Meaner walked over, and pointed to Tommy and two other random fourth grade boys.

 

“Get him to the nurse, pronto. Got it?!” he ordered. The boys nodded, and helped Bobby to his feet, before walking him out of the gym to Nurse Offstill’s office. 

 

The fourth graders continued their laps, going back and forth, back and forth, until one of the boys who’d helped Bobby came rushing back into the gym, yelling, “You guys gotta come see this!” before running back out again.

 

The entire fourth grade followed the boy, before stopping in front of the nurse’s office. George and Harold were in the middle of the crowd, so they couldn’t see what was happening very well. 

 

All they could see was Bobby lying back in a chair, thermometer in his mouth, while Nurse Offstill was on the phone and scribbling something down. 

 

“What’s going on?” Harold asked the boy in front of him. George was on his tiptoes trying to see over the crowd of fourth graders. 

 

“Bobby has the chickenpox… he has to go home,” the boy informed Harold, before continuing to stare at the sight before him. 

 

Eventually, Nurse Offstill got off the phone, and stood in her doorway, hands purposely on hips, to address the assembled fourth grade. 

 

“Hello, fourth grade. It’s nice that you’re all here, because now I can tell you this without having to go to your classrooms. Bobby has chickenpox, which means a fair amount of you will catch them too. If you don’t feel good, I want you to come see me right away, okay?” Nurse Offstill said. 

 

The entire fourth grade echoed “Yes, Nurse Offstill,” in response, before the bell rang, signaling for them to head to their next class, which was art class. 

 

George and Harold slid into their usual seats in the art room, with Harold immediately grabbing a pencil and some construction paper and beginning to sketch out a chicken. 

 

“What’re you doing?” George asked, confused. Harold looked up from his chicken, before grabbing a pair of scissors and cutting it out. 

 

“I’m going to keep record of every kid that gets the chickenpox by putting a paper chicken on their locker until they come back,” Harold said, coloring in the chicken, before getting another sheet, drawing another chicken, cutting it out, and coloring it in. 

 

“What if you get the chickenpox next? Then what?” George chuckled, taking a red pen and putting a number one on the first chicken, which would go on Bobby’s locker. 

 

“Would you be willing to carry on my legacy and finish this task?” Harold asked in a fake “noble-sounding” voice. George snickered and nodded in response, labeling the next chicken with the number two. 

 

“But what if I get the chickenpox right after you?” George asked, raising an eyebrow and realizing this was a flawed system. 

 

“Well… then we’re doomed,” Harold said, drawing a fifth chicken, and sending it over to George for labeling. 

 

The bell rang, signaling for recess to start. George and Harold decided to spend that time hanging with Nurse Offstill, so they headed to her office, knocking on the door, before hearing her say they could come in.

 

“Howdy George, Harold. All smiles, I see. I know neither of you are here for spot check,” Nurse Offstill greeted, smiling at both boys as they stepped into the office. 

 

“Hi, Nurse O. So, Bobby went home?” George asked. Nurse Offstill sighed, staring at the back of her room, which held two cots, both of them currently occupied. The kids in the cots weren’t chickenpox patients, thankfully. They were a kindergartener with a headache and a sixth grader who had stayed up all night doing homework and was now getting some much-needed sleep. 

 

“Him and six third graders,” Nurse Offstill said, plucking a pen from her container on her desk and twirling it clockwise, whistling to the tune of a random song. “I’m just hoping you two don’t get sick. I don’t want to have to spend a humorless week checking for spots and managing the outbreak, tallying the victim numbers and watching the school empty itself,”

 

“Yeah, we hope so too. We don’t really wanna itch for a week and a half,” Harold said, leaving the office to tape a paper chicken to Bobby’s locker. 

 

The rest of the day whirred by George and Harold in a blur, until the bell signalled the end of the school day. Then the two boys hopped onto their skateboards and headed to their street, to George’s house.


	2. A Pox on All Your Houses!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Harold are constantly trying to dodge the bullets of the outbreak, as students begin dropping like flies under the foreboding hand of the chickenpox. Eventually, almost the entirety of the school falls to an illness more contagious than laughter or yawning. 
> 
> co-written by http://guiltyhipster.tumblr.com/
> 
> Nurse Offstill is guiltyhipster's OC

“So… our audience is going to disappear. What do we do?” Harold asked, taking out some paper and sketching another chicken. He had to make enough for the entire fourth grade. He’d only made ten in art class.

 

“Well, you can keep making chickens… I’m just gonna relax for a minute. I’m tired,” George mumbled, settling himself in his beanbag chair, and staring out the window lethargically.

 

Harold spent a good thirty minutes making chickens. Sometimes he put red dots on them, and sometimes he put a biohazard symbol on them. He numbered each one with red pen, and stacked them in his backpack.

 

George had fallen asleep, and was turned on his side in his beanbag chair, moaning softly whenever he turned in the opposite direction or readjusted himself.

 

“You alright over there, George?” Harold asked, looking up from his army of paper poultry to see George slowly waking up, looking more tired than he did when he’d fallen asleep.

 

“I don’t feel good,” George grumbled, rubbing his eyes double-fisted like a toddler that needed a nap, and sitting up in the chair.

 

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Harold asked with great concern, putting the scissors down for a minute. He had more important matters to address at the moment than cardstock hens.

 

“Everything hurts… I wanna go back to sleep,” George yawned, holding his head in his hands, just looking miserable. Harold got up and walked over to George, before placing one hand on each of George’s cheeks, and squeezing gently.

 

His skin felt warmer, just a little bit. Harold brushed it off, and walked back to his spot, plopping down and coloring the beak of another chicken. George curled back up in his chair, and fell asleep again.

 

Harold had polished off enough chickens for the entire grade by the time George finally woke up. It was getting dark, and George looked like he wanted to go to bed, so Harold stood up, placing all the chickens in his backpack, and turned to face his friend.

 

“G’night George,” Harold said, climbing down from the exit door of the treehouse onto the garbage cans in his backyard. George said goodnight as well, and then dragged himself weakly down the ladder before folding it back up before heading inside.

 

That night, George went to sleep for a few solid hours. He woke up at about three in the morning, scratching at his abdomen.

 

George got out of bed, walked to the bathroom, and flicked on the lights. He wanted to look in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t just all in his head.

 

Climbing onto the stepping stool in front of the bathroom mirror, George unbuttoned his pajama shirt, and looked at his exposed belly in the mirror. Six red spots, lined up to form a circle around his belly button.

 

It was official. George was going to have a paper chicken plastered on his locker in esteemed memory of his life before the outbreak. He was going to have a memorial on his locker.

 

George turned the lights off, and headed into his room, turning on his walkie-talkie to tell Harold the devastating news.

 

“Harod! Harold!” George hissed into the microphone of his walkie-talkie. Harold was asleep, and needed to be woken up so he could be told what was happening.

 

Harold squirmed about in bed upon hearing his walkie talkie calling his name, and reached for it on his side table, pressing the button and speaking into it.

 

“Yes?” Harold asked sleepily, rubbing his left eye and yawning.

 

“I’ve been claimed by it. I have fallen against the evil poultry plague,” George announced solemnly, staring at his abdomen and sighing.

 

“Huh?” Harold asked, confused at what George had just said. It was early, and he really couldn’t form thoughts coherently. This was all very confusing.

 

“I have the chickenpox, Harold,” George said, deadpan as he sat in bed, staring at the night sky through his window.

 

“Noooooo!” Harold shouted in despair at his ceiling, having jumped out of bed and dropped to his knees.

 

George winced and rolled his eyes. “Harold, it’s fine, just put a chicken on my locker, and then I’ll see you when I see you.” He sighed, wiping a single tear from his right eye. He was going to miss his best friend the week or so he’d be out of school.

 

“What am I supposed to do while you’re at home?!” Harold cried, distraught. George sighed again, and rested his chin on one hand.

 

“I dunno, what do you usually do while I’m gone?” George asked, folding his arms in indignance. He didn’t feel well, and he just wanted to go back to sleep until one of his parents woke him up.

 

“Wait for you to get back,” Harold whimpered, clutching his chest in fake anguish as he thought of the week ahead, spending miserable day after miserable day watching classmate after classmate fall victim to the vengeful pox.

 

“Well, look on the bright side. Maybe you’ll catch them too, then you can come over to my house and we can hang out,” George suggested, peeling off one of his socks and staring at his feet. There were a couple of scattered blisters on each foot.

 

“I guess, but what if I never catch them, George?!” Harold squeaked, anxious and scared of being separated from George for that long. A whole week was devastating. It was like being apart for months on end.

 

“You will, trust me. You’ve never had them before. Neither of us has had them,”  George reminded him, turning off his walkie-talkie and turning over to go back to blissful sleep.

 

The following morning, Harold got up and got ready for school, gloomily tugging on his pants and his signature long-sleeved striped T-shirt. Time for him to prepare for his first day without George.

 

To be honest, it was actually a bit difficult to muster up the energy to tug on his pants without lying down on his bed to yank them up.

 

Harold stared at George’s house in sorrow as he passed it by on the walk to school. It was going to be a long week.

 

Upon arriving at school, Harold scrambled straight to the nurse’s office. He knocked rapidly on the door, only for Nurse Offstill to open it, smiling.

 

“Sorry kiddo, not open to healthy fourth graders at the moment. I’ve got a couple of patients in here,” Nurse Offstill said, keeping her distance and not touching Harold with her gloved hands.

 

“Who’s in there?” Harold asked, still upset about not being with George for the day. Nurse Offstill looked behind her, and then turned to face Harold again.

 

“Your pals Tommy and Melvin,” Nurse Offstill said, gesturing behind her to Melvin rigid in a chair, thermometer in his mouth, and Tommy staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

 

Harold sighed, and nodded, before explaining his situation. “George has them too. He’s at home… I miss him,” he told her, heartbroken.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll catch them. You and George will be reunited in no time. Now go to class and try to learn something before I gotta send you home,” Nurse Offstill said with a final sympathetic smile, before closing the door and returning to her patients.

Harold was a little tired, and he walked over to George’s locker, slapping a paper chicken on the door, before doing the same to Tommy’s and Melvin’s. Four down, a nice chunk to go. A part of him was surprised that Mr. Krupp hadn’t torn down the one he’d put on Bobby’s. He’d passed by that locker; it was still there, a badge of the first of the fallen.

 

“Huh. Maybe Krupp’s got a heart after all,” Harold thought. What the young artist didn’t know was that Offstill already had caught on to what he was doing and had promptly gone straight to the principal’s office to explain her plan to keep track of all the sick, absent students in the event that the paperwork went missing (as it often did).

 

“Don’t take them down. Don’t touch them. It’s going to mess everything up,” she’d told Krupp, who’d only shrugged disinterestedly and grumbled his assent. Offstill had left the office smirking victoriously. _Sucker._

 

Harold was beginning to feel dizzy. He couldn’t decide whether or not it was with grief, so he went along with it.

 

Halfway throughout the day, Harold saw another girl in his grade and two boys head to the nurse’s office. He didn’t see them at all after that. Three more chickens. This was adding up faster than he’d expected.

 

Harold sat in class as Miss Ribble groaned on and on about agriculture or something. All the while Harold could only think about how hot it felt in the classroom. He was _sweltering._

 

Sweat soaked Harold’s hair, and made the back of his shirt wet and sticky. It was disgusting, and Harold was beginning to feel the tag on his shirt scratch his back. It was itchy, unbearably itchy.

 

Harold tried to reach back and rip out the tag, but it was futile. He just couldn’t reach it. He decided he’d go out into the hall and piece himself together, maybe visit Nurse Offstill if no one was in her office.

 

“Miss Ribble! Can I go to the bathroom?” Harold pleaded, raising his hand and waving it around. Miss Ribble gave a sigh. There wasn’t enough coffee and aspirin in the world for her to drown out Harold’s noise.

 

Miss Ribble growled out a “Fine,” and Harold raced to the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, he sighed longingly. He missed George so much. He couldn’t think about how miserable George must be right now. He couldn’t _bear_ to think of it. Maybe he could go visit George once school let out.

 

No. It wasn’t possible. George was contagious and Harold’s mother was not one to allow Harold to do something like that. Then again… who says his mother had to know at all? He can just sneak out and visit George.

 

The bell rang, and Harold headed to his next class, only to see two more kids headed for the nurse. Oh boy. Another pair of chickens. Harold was starting to fear the worst.

 

By the end of the day, a quarter of the entire fourth grade was gone. Chickenpox had taken a toll on them all, and now everyone was just waiting for paper chickens to pop up on the lockers of the smitten.

 

Harold headed home after the dismissal bell, and discreetly  skateboarded to George’s house, looking around and making sure no one saw him.

 

Climbing the stairs to George’s room, Harold held his breath, making sure no one heard him either, since George’s mother worked from home.

 

Opening the door silently and barrel rolling into the room, Harold saw George, lying in bed, moaning quietly, with sweat beading on his forehead, and pink goop smothered across his spotty face and hands.

 

“George...George!” Harold whisper-yelled from in front of George’s headboard. George sat up, and weakly crawled to the front of his bed, jumping back in shock upon seeing Harold.

 

“What are you doing here?!” George exclaimed in shock, tugging the covers over his head, before being hit suddenly by sluggishness and flopping back onto his pillows.

 

“I came here to visit you,” Harold explained, sitting on George’s bed and crossing his legs. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“In short, terrible,” George said, monotone and weak, “My body hurts, and I’m always itchy, and I can never seem to gather enough energy to get out of bed. It always feels hot in here, and the lotion they put on my chickenpox spots is cold.”

 

“That… sucks,” Harold said, resting a hand on George’s thigh, and thinking about how the rest of his week would go. Without George, and having nothing but these discreet visits and maybe a walkie-talkie conversation or two as contact with him, Harold would be miserable.

 

“I don’t feel good at all, man. Everything hurts,” George complained, struggling to scratch his back without inducing the horrible fatigue that chickenpox had straddled him with.

 

Harold spent his time comforting George, talking to him about school, and how pretty much half of the fourth grade has disappeared in a spotty haze. George would laugh outrageously, before having to collapse against his pillows again in exhaustion.

Suddenly, Mr. Beard walked in the room, and widened his eyes a little.

 

“Oh, hi Harold,” he said nonchalantly, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him, to give the boys some privacy.

 

“I’m glad that wasn’t your Mom. She would’ve killed me for sure,” Harold said, taking a bombastic exhale after sucking in his breath in anticipation the moment Mr. Beard entered George’s bedroom.

 

George groaned, thrashing around, attempting to scratch his back. “I can’t stop trying to scratch! It itches too much!” he grunted through his teeth.

 

Harold nodded, before hearing George’s mother’s footsteps nearing the room.

  
“I gotta go, buddy. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Harold whispered, throwing the window open and jumping out.

 

Landing in one of the Hutchins’ bushes, Harold looked around, and skittered inside his house, fleeing to his room to make sure his mother didn’t notice him.

 

The next morning, Harold woke up feeling even worse than he did yesterday, both physically and mentally. Everything hurt, and he felt like he was on fire.

 

Trudging to Jerome Horwitz, Harold sighed in despair, passing by George’s house at the start of his walk once again. He wouldn’t be able to see him again for a while. They’d come too close to getting caught the day before.

 

Upon arriving at school, Harold looked at the collection of about twenty-four chickens pasted to lockers. Half the fourth grade. Gone.

 

Harold headed straight to Nurse Offstill’s office to tell her hello, and immediately he was hoisted up and ushered into the room.

 

“Nurse Offstill? Is anyone with the chickenpox in here? Because I don’t want to ca-Mmph!” Harold rambled, being cut off by a thermometer popped into his mouth, and being firmly seated in a chair.

 

Watching the clock gently tick, with Nurse Offstill’s hand on his forehead, and the thermometer under his tongue, Harold was wondering what could have happened.

 

Then it hit him. It was finally happening. He was getting his moment of salvation. He didn’t have to worry about anything anymore. Harold wanted to spread his mouth wide with excitement, beaming, but he had to hold his mouth still to make sure the thermometer didn’t read improperly.

 

“102.4. I knew it. Alright, I want you to do me a favor and lift up your shirt. Alright, kiddo?” Nurse Offstill requested. Harold gladly pulled his shirt up to his neck, and held it there.

 

Five spots were scattered along his back and shoulder blades. Two on each arm, and a singular spot right above his belly button. It was official. Harold was going to be released from his George-less prison, and he’d be able to hang out with his best friend now.

 

“I’m gonna call your mother to come get you. Why don’t you lie down on one of the cots for a while until she gets here?” Nurse Offstill asked. Harold nodded, and compliantly shuffled onto one of the cots to take a nap.

 

Yawning and stretching his arms over his head, he muttered, “Nurse O, while I’m gone, will you do something for me?”

 

“Sure, kiddo. What do you need?” she asked as Harold pulled a piece of scrap paper and a pen from his backpack and began to scribble something down.

 

Ms. Hutchins swooped into the nurse’s office twenty minutes later and picked Harold up, slinging him over her shoulder and carrying him into the car, taking him home to recover.

 

“Now, Harold, you’re going to stay over George’s house for the week, because I don’t want Heidi to catch the chickenpox from you. She’s a bit young for it right now, and I don’t want her to miss out on her ballet recital this Friday,” Ms. Hutchins said.

 

Harold beamed, packing his pajamas and some paper into a backpack and heading out the door to George’s house. He wasn’t going to be miserable or lonely. Everything was going to be fine.

 

George was sitting up in bed, staring at his wall out of sheer tiredness and boredom, thinking about how much he missed Harold and how long it would be until he saw him again.

 

Only for Harold to kick his door open, grinning like a champion.

 

“Guess who’s lethargic and miserable, George? Me, that’s who!” Harold cried with excitement, hurtling himself onto George’s bed and sitting at his feet.

  
George joyously reached out his arms to tightly embrace Harold. Though they’d only been apart for a few hours at most, it had felt like days. It always did when they couldn’t revel in each other’s laughter to pass the time.

 

“How long has it been, man? I feel like it’s been forever,” George said, chuckling as he relished in his best friend being by his side to endure this together.

 

“I don’t even know, George. Let’s just assume it’s been forever,” Harold said excitedly. George sighed in relief, before being overcome with exhaustion from the sudden outburst of movement, and resting his back against his pillows.

 

Back at Jerome Horwitz, Nurse Offstill opened Harold’s locker with the combination he’d written down for her before his mother arrived, and saw a stack of the iconic paper chickens. She’d been entrusted with finishing Harold’s task, and to start off, she plastered an especially big construction paper fowl on the door of Harold’s locker.

 

With the two of them gone, Offstill was left with no one to share especially nuanced laughs with, no one to help her bide her time as she checked boxes next to names to keep track of the outbreak’s progression. It was quiet, and it was awkward, as teachers began to get bored and cranky, having nothing better to do with themselves.

 

Offstill sat at her desk, cracked her knuckles, and typed out a detailed e-mail describing _precisely_ how to care for a child that has contracted the chickenpox. Which medications to use to reduce fever, which pharmaceutical lotions were best to soothe itching, other remedies to attempt to remove itching, and so on and so forth.

 

On the email it was enclosed that no high-salt vegetable broths, or broths of any kind in general with high-salt content should be given to a child that’s sick with the chickenpox. No child should be given aspirin either. There was a whole list of things that should and should not be done, to prevent all of the mistakes she had ever witnessed. And she had witnessed everything. Every year at the children’s hospital she used to work at, during the height of chicken pox season, a surge of parents rushed their offspring to emergency, due to some mistake or another. Some careless decision that sabotaged their child’s recovery. Some neglected aspect of their illness that exploded into something much worse.

 

This year, as a school nurse, she finally had some power to prevent these disasters besides handing out flyers in the hospital waiting rooms. She had hundreds of parents’ emails at her disposal. All she had to do was click “Send To All” and she would be able to care for her students from afar by making sure each parent got a fully detailed list of instructions. She only hoped that they were trust her and her experience and expertise.

 

After proofreading the email thoroughly, and at last clicking “Send To All,” Nurse Offstill began making up a list of students whose parents might not be competent and trustworthy enough to follow her instructions and provide their children with the very best care. At the first top of the list, without hesitation, she wrote out _Melvin Sneedly._

 

Back at George’s house, George and Harold were leaned up against each other, faces covered in pink aqueous calamine cream, and shirts loosened so that they could feel the cool air filtering in from the tiny bit George’s bedroom window was open.

 

“I...I underestimated… just how bad this would feel. We’re both together, and that’s great and all, but I am not… okay. Everything is hot and I feel yucky,” Harold complained, exhausted and done for.

 

“I know, it’s the worst,” George moaned, resting a hand on his abdomen, and struggling to resist the urge to scratch his blisters.

 

“Come with me into the bathroom boys. I have something that your school nurse told me can help with the itching,” Mrs. Beard said, ushering the two feverish, tired boys into the bathroom, where they looked into the bathtub and saw that it was full of water.

 

On the edge of the bathtub was an empty box of baking soda. Mrs. Beard left the room, closing the door and leaving George and Harold to themselves.

 

Harold peeled off his pajamas first, and stepped in the lukewarm water. It felt amazing, like a thousand tiny particles soaking into his skin and gently scratching everything for him. Settling in, Harold beckoned for George to join him.

 

George unbuttoned his pajama shirt, and tossed them against the wall along with his pants, and joined Harold in the bathtub, looking at what seemed to be about 70 or more spots covering his entire body through the clouded lens of the water.

 

Harold looked at his blistered skin, and sighed, enjoying not having to fight the urge to scratch at any of his spots thanks to the baking soda mixed with the water.

 

After about thirty minutes of soaking in the bicarbonate soda water, George pulled the stopper and stepped out of the bathtub, toweling himself dry very slowly, so as not to aggravate his skin, and headed back to his bedroom. Harold followed after him.

 

Upon getting back into George’s bedroom, Harold and George both changed into a loose, comfortable pairs of pajamas, each of them having a pair to match the other’s.

 

Sliding back into bed, and getting comfortable above the covers, George turned to face his bedside table, and found two steaming mugs of tea, with a post-it note on one of the mugs.

 

“Your school nurse suggested this as an idea. She said it was better than lemon because sour things would burn, so I used berries instead,” was what the note read. George took his cup in hand, and passed the other cup to Harold, before taking a sip.

 

It was nice and warm. It made him feel cozy and relaxed, and best of all it tasted amazing.

 

“Good ol’ Nurse O.” George gave a short sigh as he took one sip after another, eventually setting the mug down and looking at Harold, gentle excitement in his eyes.

 

“You think my Mom will let us watch TV downstairs?” George asked, watching Harold take gulping sips of his tea, before he too set his mug down.

 

“Probably. Let’s ask her,” Harold said, gently getting out of bed and balancing himself, before helping George do the same. The two of them headed to Mrs. Beard’s office.

 

“Mom… can we watch TV downstairs?” George asked, pretty exhausted still, and struggling to stay on his feet. Mrs. Beard turned to face her son and his best friend standing and wobbling tiredly in her doorway.

 

“Of course. Just turn on the ceiling fan while you’re down there,” Mrs. Beard said, returning to her work, and allowing the two boys to carefully head down the steps.

 

Upon reaching the carpeted floor of George’s living room, George reached upward and turned on the whirring, silent, ceiling fan, before getting settled on the couch. Harold climbed up onto the couch to join him.

 

George grabbed hold of the remote, and turned the television on, switching over to an episode of _Doug_. Harold and George attempted to focus their attention on the show, and they could pick up on some elements of the story. Not everything though. If you asked them who or what the story was focusing on, neither of them could tell you.

 

It was a peaceful afternoon, and George and Harold were both just going to sit back and relax, and enjoy the day, relishing in the cool air coating their searing bodies.

 

Back at Jerome Horwitz, Nurse Offstill was on the phone, answering the questions of a concerned mother of a fourth grade girl who had scratched some of her spots until they bled. Nurse Offstill was actively trying to calm the distraught woman down, by keeping her own voice steady, calm, and professional.

 

“Mrs. Croft, please, calm down, Yes, I know Abigail looks bad now, but it’ll dry up. Just disinfect the scratched area and dry it off. Don’t bandage it, though. More spots will come up in that area,” Nurse Offstill explained. The mother thanked her dearly, and hung up. Nurse Offstill sighed in relief, another job well done.

 

Almost fifteen seconds after ending the call with Mrs. Croft, Nurse Offstill’s office phone rang again. It was the father of a third grader, upset because his son wouldn’t drink water or eat, and that he was getting desperate.

 

“There are probably blisters in his mouth. Just heat the water up a little bit, not too hot mind you, and then give it to him, in small, careful sips. As for food, just give him something that isn’t very salty. Sugar-free popsicles or Jello would work best, because they’re soothing to sensitive mouths and throats. Also, they’re delicious,” Nurse Offstill instructed.

 

The father thanked her, and she ended the call, adding another good job to her tally board. School didn’t close for another thirty or forty minutes, so Offstill just had to check the tally board to keep an update on the chicken project, and take more calls, because they would keep coming in until school closed. They’d been coming in all day, which was solid proof that the parents were actually reading her email, and had seen the office number at the bottom they could call during school hours in case they had any questions. It was keeping her busy, as opposed to the rest of the staff, who were moping about aimlessly, waiting for the day to be over. It was also filling up her appointment book, as several of the parents who’d called for her advice had also issued an dinner invitation as a way of retribution. She would be dining at the different house every day for the next week.

 

On a dramatically different note, Krupp was sitting in his office, leaning back in his chair, legs crossed and up on his desk, as he considered what the children might be doing right now. He had to admit, George and Harold being out sick had been fun at first because he didn’t have them bugging him. But now three quarters of the school was gone and he had no one to yell at.

 

Krupp sighed, lamenting about how the hallways would usually be filled with childish laughter, open and animated conversations. They’d be full of life. Now, with so many students gone and every five minutes a handful more were added to the stack, the hallways were almost silent.

 

Krupp, for once in his life, was left with nothing but his thoughts, and an empty school building. Folding his hands on his stomach and whistling gently, Krupp’s spirits gradually sank as he came to the realization that he had nothing to do anymore. He didn’t know what to do with himself while the children were all out sick.

 

He had no bills to pay; he’d done all that last week. There was no paperwork, so crises, not even a student abandoned at the school who needed a ride home. He didn’t have any resumes to look through, no detentions to monitor, and all after school activities had been cancelled. He was utterly useless. And to make matters worse, Edith was staying with her mother for two weeks, in Cleveland, so he couldn’t even make any plans to spend extra time with her.

 

Suddenly, Krupp’s office phone rang, and he scrambled to pick it up.

 

“Hello?” Krupp asked the caller. “Principal Krupp speaking.” Upon hearing the voice that responded, Krupp realized this was the mother of a second grader.

 

“Uhm, hello, I was wondering where you’re supposed to get acetaminophen again? Sarah needs it to bring her fever down, and I don’t have any of it here...” the mother began, her voice laced with worry as Krupp could hear the whimpers of the second grade girl in the background.

 

“I think you’re looking for Nurse Offstill. This is the principal’s office.” Krupp sighed, biting his lip because now he felt even more useless, with parents tripping over themselves to ask Offstill for help with their children.

 

“Oh! I forgot that her office number was in her e-mail. My apologies,” the mother said, nervously hanging up the phone.

 

Krupp had been taking sips from mug of coffee, and at the exact moment an e-mail was mentioned, Krupp did a spit take, spraying the brown liquid that had been in his mouth all over his desk.

 

Krupp was confused, and furious, because he had never received an e-mail from Nurse Offstill asking if she had the clearance to send something out to all the parents, nor did Offstill herself ask in person. The nerve of that woman!

 

Krupp got up and stormed off to Offstill’s office, throwing the door open and glaring at the school nurse, who was now on the phone with the concerned second grade parent. Krupp stood there with his arms folded, waiting and tapping his foot until Offstill finished the call to give her a piece of his mind.

 

Offstill hung up the phone after naming several convenience stores and pharmacies that carried brands of acetaminophen for children for the mother, and turned to look at Krupp nonchalantly.

 

“Can I help you?” she asked, not at all fazed by the raw rage alight in his eyes.

 

Krupp snarled, and held up a print out of Offstill’s e-mail that he had made just for evidence. “What is the meaning of this?!” he barked, bitter about this entire ordeal.

 

Nurse Offstill rolled her eyes, “Electronic mail? You know, you type someone’s address in the little bar, type out what you have to say, and then hit ‘Send?’ Ring any bells?” she said condescendingly, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she struggled not to laugh.

 

Krupp huffed indignantly, and growled his answer. “Mind telling me why I didn’t get a permission request to send out an ‘e-mail’ to all the parents?” Krupp asked, tapping his foot again.

 

“Because I shouldn’t have to ask you permission in order for me to do my job?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know what you want me to say here, Krupp. I sent out an e-mail to all the parents with clear instructions on how to take care of their child while they’re sick. Don’t see what’s wrong with that,” Nurse Offstill said, plainly.

 

Krupp’s face turned crimson with anger, and his teeth were grinding against each other. Krupp was ready to lash out at Offstill in frustration. Finally, someone to yell at! He had purpose again.

 

But before he could even open his mouth, Offstill’s office phone rang yet again, and she waved him off, saying, “If you’re done ranting and raving about nothing, I have to take this,” before picking up the phone.

 

“Hello? Nurse Offstill here. Oh, yes, hi Mrs. Chen. How’s Hua’s fever doing? Gone down? Perfect! Now, all you have to do if make sure that she drinks—”

 

Krupp stepped to the other end of the doorway, and slammed the door behind him, storming back into his office and getting back into his previous position. Fine. If Nurse Offstill wanted to spend all day chatting on the phone with hysteric parents, let her. Less for him to deal with.

 

Chickenpox was a very… explicit and to the point childhood illness, Krupp thought to himself. Krupp sat and spun in his chair, struggling to recall what his experience with chickenpox was like when he was a child.

 

Krupp wracked his mind, trying to remember things about his experience, but all he could remember was that he was transitioning from third grade to fourth grade at the time, everything else was just a blur to him. As was most of his childhood, a period of his life that he would much rather shove to the back of his mind like an unwanted Christmas present than look back on for any sense of nostalgia, as many people his age tended to do. Why would anyone miss being small, vulnerable, and always sick, anyway?

Krupp suddenly gathered his thoughts, and focused on a figure that was moving around outside his office. It was his secretary, packing up for the day. Krupp glanced up at the clock on the wall above his door.

 

It was 4:25 pm. The building was supposed to close now, Krupp had been so lost in his thoughts that he’d forgotten it was time to leave. For him it had basically been a whole wasted day. It had been a wasted day for pretty much every member of staff. Except for goody two shoes Nurse Offstill, of course. On his way out, he could still hear her yammering on the phone. When he passed by her office, he saw her hurriedly packing things into her nurse’s bag and purse as she balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear, giving last-minute advice to the mother of a kindergartner who kept trying to pull off the oven mitts she’d taped to his hands to keep him from scratching.

 

“Just keep applying lotion, Mrs. Oates, and try to distract him with something. What Pixar movies do you have at home?”

 

“Slow down for once, will you?” Mr. Krupp thought to himself as he headed down the hallways, to the front door. “Stop trying to be everyone’s nanny.” When the children left the school at the end of the day, they were their parents’ responsibility, not the staff’s. Those useless mothers and fathers needed to learn to think for themselves and not have to badger a nurse or doctor for every little thing.

 

On the way out, he heard the other faculty members complaining about Offstill as well. “Back in the day, no one visited or even called a doctor’s office unless it was serious,” Mr. Rected was saying. “Home remedies were the thing. And look at all of us! Perfectly fine!”

 

“Mothers and grandmothers used to know what to do,” Mr. Flyde added. “Now all these young parents fall to pieces if their child so much as sneezes. It’s a real shame.”

“And now Offstill thinks she’s a one-woman clinic because they’re all running to her for advice that should be common sense to them,” Ms. Fitt put in spitefully. No one pointed out that she didn’t have any children, nor had she ever cared for any while they were sick, being the bitter old spinster that she was. “And they’re fawning all over her too, now. Inviting her to dinner and everything. You won’t get a date with her this week, Jacob. From what I’ve heard, she’s booked solid.”

 

“I’ve been trying all year to get a date with her,” Mr. Meaner spat grumpily. “Maybe _I_ should get the chicken pox. Then I’d be worthy of her time.”  

 

Tossing his briefcase into his car, Krupp decided that he’d had enough thinking for one day, and enough of the staff’s whining and squabbling and Nurse Offstill’s bossy know-it-all voice, and turned on some random radio talk show to listen to on his drive home.

 

Upon arriving at his house, Krupp remembered that the school board had called for Jerome Horwitz to be closed down tomorrow until the outbreak was resolved. So tomorrow, he’d have the day all to himself. Now _that_ would be bliss.  

 

Krupp continued to try and think of what chickenpox was like for him as a child, but from the depths of his mind and memory he only drew up blank cards and blurry images. He couldn’t seem to remember a thing other than what year it was. It was frustrating him.

 

Grabbing a beer from his fridge, Krupp plopped down into his armchair, and cracked open the can. Taking a few sips, Krupp began to indulge in a little self-pity, thinking about just how useless he was compared to Offstill. Knowing her, she was probably _still_ at the school, and still on the phone. She would probably stay on it until eventually the janitor kicked her out.

 

The beer really hadn’t been the smartest idea, because soon Krupp was just folded in his chair, grumbling about how ridiculous this all was. Eventually, he got the idea to just go to bed and not bother with trying to reminisce about his chickenpox experience and feeling sorry for himself because he wasn’t a nurse.

 

Flopping into bed, and turning out the lights, Krupp’s eyes snapped shut and he fell asleep instantly.


	3. House Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krupp is preparing to enjoy his day off, but he finds Nurse Offstill going around town on her bike, and following her leads him deeper into the lives and worlds of his students, as he slowly uncovers bits and pieces of memories. 
> 
> co-written by http://guiltyhipster.tumblr.com/

The next day, Krupp woke up and got dressed. More casual clothing was called for today. An old sweater he’d never really gotten around to wearing, and a pair of jeans. A cozy winter jacket overtop. Perfect.

 

Krupp was headed out to run a few errands before returning home to watch TV. Getting in his car with his list of minor things to do, stores to visit, things to pick up, Krupp backed out of his driveway and got down to it.

 

While driving, a few errands later, Krupp saw Nurse Offstill on her bicycle, nurse’s bag with it’s blazing red cross strapped down in her basket in the back. She had on her navy-blue trench coat with brass buttons, and the stony expression on her face told him she was riding out with a purpose on that mildly chilly February day. What was she doing out and about on their day off, with her nurse’s bag to boot? Why wasn’t she spending time with that enormous family of hers, or staying at home, with a mug of tea and a book? She was up to something, he knew it just by looking at her. She was in full nurse mode and she was on her way to do something nurse-related.

 

Krupp made the decision to follow behind her, see what she was up to. In an instant he’d forgotten all about the errands he’d been planning to do, all the shows he’d been planning to watch at home. If Nurse Offstill was doing anything that involved a student, he, the principal, had to know about it.

 

Nurse Offstill, while pedaling, could see Krupp’s car through the corner of her eye. He was following her. But she decided not to pay him any attention. She’d only confront him if he got in her way. Offstill was on a mission. She didn’t have time to try and get him to stop trailing her.

 

Nurse Offstill was paying house calls to check on kids that might not be getting all the help that they need from their parents. Children in situations like Melvin Sneedly, to be specific. He was the first on her list. Nurse Offstill wanted to make sure they were all looked after and provided for, and then she was going to change and head to Harold’s house. Ms. Hutchins had been kind enough to invite her over for dinner, along with George’s parents and grandmother. Harold had told her once that his Mom was a good cook, so she was looking forward to it. She was also looking forward to seeing George and Harold again and evaluating their progress.

 

Upon arriving at her first stop, the Sneedly residence, Nurse Offstill parked her bike, unlatched and grabbed her nurse’s bag, and headed up to the door. Mr. Krupp, from his car nearby, watched her knock twice. “Nurse Calling!”

 

Mrs. Sneedly opened the door, eyes widening in surprise when she saw Nurse Offstill. “Well, um... hello, Nurse Offstill, didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, having a very strained face of civility the entire time she stood there. She wasn’t smiling, she just looked… like someone struggling to _not_ look like they had been interrupted in the middle of an important experiment in her lab. Not annoyed at all.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Sneedly. I know this is a little unorthodox, but I’ve just dropped by to make sure Melvin is getting along alright. His case is particularly severe. I saw that when I examined him at the school. Could I come in and have a look at him?” Nurse Offstill asked, getting straight to the point. She knew Mrs. Sneedly was not going to tolerate any small talk. She had to get her foot through the door fast if she was going to get to Melvin.

 

The other woman sighed. “Sure. Why not? Melvin’s in his room. We told him not to bother us, because we’re busy, so he’s all yours,” Mrs. Sneedly said, waving Nurse Offstill in and closing the door behind them.

 

Krupp, who’d witnessed and heard the whole exchange from the curb, shook his head in disbelief. Home visits. She was doing home visits, on her day off. Only Nurse Offstill would think this sort of thing was appropriate. As if that damn email wasn’t enough.

 

Krupp decided to park on the curb and try to head in, to catch her in the act, and to see for himself why Melvin Sneedly was such a priority over all the other students (Offstill had said nothing to anyone about Melvin’s chicken pox being “particularly severe.”) He marched up to the front door and knocked, only to receive no answer. He tried the doorbell. Nothing. Maybe Mrs. Sneedly wasn’t in the mood to respond, or she was busy. Either way, he wasn’t about to cry out “Nurse Calling!” in order to gain access, as the clever and meddling Nurse Offstill had done. He would just...let himself in, and make excuses later.

 

Krupp turned the knob a little, to find out that the door was unlocked. Lucky him.

 

Upon pushing open the door, Krupp’s ears picked up on the sound of Melvin, coughing and wheezing. Krupp’s shoulders tensed up to his ears. He was unsettled by the coarse, wet sounds filling the halls of this level of the house. Krupp slowly followed the sound until he saw what he assumed was Melvin’s bedroom.

 

On the door was a yellow quarantine sign taped to the center, along with Melvin’s first name spelled out neatly in permanent marker on a sheet of paper. Krupp took a deep breath, and opened the door.

 

Nurse Offstill looked up at Krupp, and yelled in surprise, jumping in place a little bit. What was he doing, _in the house?_ He was supposed to be outside, being a terrible spy and not interfering with her work.

 

Melvin was leaned forward, freckled skin pale aside for the barrage of red blisters covering it. Nurse Offstill’s gloved hand was smeared with aqueous calamine cream, which she had been rubbing onto Melvin’s back, because the poor kid was itching like crazy, and not only were his parents too busy to help him, he was also too weak to invent something to coat his back in lotion for him.

 

“Well, well, well, what brings you here, Krupp? Did you get lost on the way back to your cave?” Nurse Offstill asked, not at all bothering to hide her contempt for Krupp and his total disregard for a nurse and her patient’s privacy.

 

Melvin looked up, seeing that Mr. Krupp had entered and wheezing before giving a strained, nervous, and slightly confused greeting of, “H...Hi...Principal Krupp.”

 

Mr. Krupp stood in the doorway, observing the scene, before opening his mouth to ask a question, which strayed on his tongue. The sight of Melvin completely unnerved him. Gone was the snooty, confidant little brainiac who was his greatest ally against George and Harold’s antics. In his place was this croaking, cloudy-eyed, spotted half-zombie who could just barely register his surroundings, let alone question why both his school nurse and principal were in his house, in his _bedroom,_ at the same time. Man, chickenpox was brutal.

 

“I just...um...I...what’s going on, here?” he asked at last, fiddling with his hands behind his back. He’d forgotten why he’d come into the house in the first place. He couldn’t take his eyes off Melvin, who looked ready to drop dead at any moment. Nurse Offstill rolled her eyes.

 

“I’m putting lotion on Melvin’s back. His parents are busy, so I decided to take care of it,” Nurse Offstill said, completely deadpan, as she squirted more lotion in her palm. “His parents are very often busy, you see, being scientists who can’t leave their lab for long periods of time, so I thought maybe Melvin could use some _special attention.”_

 

Melvin’s eyes widened, and he brought the crook of his elbow to his mouth, coughing intensely. It sounded horrible. Worse than nails on a chalkboard. Worse than TV static. Krupp, mortified and disgusted, bolted out of the room, leaving the house and heading to his car, panting as he stared ahead of him.

 

Krupp decided that he’d wait for Offstill to leave the house. He felt a little guilty for dashing out like that, but he couldn’t listen to the sound of Melvin coughing any more than he already had. It made him feel an emotion he’s felt very few times in his life: concern, and fear for the safety of someone other than himself or someone he was close to, like Edith.

 

Krupp waited outside, leaning against his car for about twenty minutes, until he saw Nurse Offstill leave the house with her nurse’s bag in hand. She walked towards him, frowning with disapproval, like a mother silently scolding her child in public for something they’d done wrong.

 

“Hey, um, I can explain…” he began. She raised a hand to cut him off.

 

“Melvin’s asleep. I’ve given him Benadryl for his cough and left some Jello in his mini fridge for him to eat when he wakes up. He’s fine...for now,” Nurse Offstill informed him coolly, putting her nurse’s bag into her bike basket and pulling the straps across it. “You’re a bad snoop. I knew you were behind me on the way here. If you’re going to follow me around all day, you’re gonna have to help me, not run out of every kid’s house in a panic.”

 

“B-But I’m not a nurse!” Krupp protested weakly. Stupidly.

 

“Obviously not,” Offstill snapped. “You’re not gonna touch the kids. But I’ll need your help with other things...if you can handle it.”

 

“I can!” he cried, too loudly. He blushed, embarrassed at having let it slip so easily that he was dying to be useful for once. “I mean, of course I can. How hard can it be?”

 

Offstill mounted her bike, nearly kicking him in the thigh as she ungracefully threw her leg over. “Alright. I’ll give you a shot, rookie. Follow me.”

 

Krupp gulped, and nodded, getting in his car and following Offstill as she set off to another house. He was already starting to regret this, but he couldn’t back out now. Offstill would never let him hear the end of it if he...pun unintended... _chickened out._

 

Upon arriving at the new destination, Krupp realized that he knew exactly whose house this was. It was the home of a fourth grader in George and Harold’s class. A brunette girl. He remembers her house because one day her mother was swamped with work and her father was out of town, so he drove alongside her as she walked home to make sure she was safe. Her name was Tamara Bunt, if he was recalling things correctly. One of the quiet ones. Never caused trouble, never was trouble. So why was Offstill stopping here?

 

Krupp got out of his car and fell in step with Nurse Offstill in their walk to the front door. Nurse Offstill rang the doorbell, and Mrs. Bunt almost instantly answered the door looking disheveled and holding a chubby, fussy baby with her free arm.

 

“Oh! Nurse Offstill! So good to see you! Todd and I have been so busy with the baby and with calls from work that we’ve had to read your e-mail in shifts. Along with taking care of Tammy in shifts, it’s been such a disaster!” Mrs. Bunt rambled, bouncing the baby on her hip to keep him  quiet.

 

Nurse Offstill gave a friendly, poised smile. “Hello, Mrs. Bunt. That _does_ sound stressful. Principal Krupp and I were in the neighbourhood and we decided to drop by and check on Tammy. I hope that isn’t too troubling for you. May we come in?” Nurse Offstill asked.

 

Mrs. Bunt gave a sigh of frustration because the baby was still whining and bouncing him wasn’t working, but looked up and returned Offstill’s smile anyway. “But of course! Come on in! Tammy’s upstairs in her room,” she said. “She’ll be happy to see you, nurse. She talks about you a lot. And, um...you too, Principal Krupp. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you too.”

 

Nurse Offstill and Krupp stepped inside the house, and headed straight upstairs with Nurse Offstill leading the way. She knocked on Tammy’s bedroom door, waiting for Tammy to respond with “Come in.”

 

“It might be best if you wait outside,” Nurse Offstill whispered to Krupp. “She’s a nervous patient and, let’s face it, you’re not exactly the angel of mercy.”

 

She didn’t give Krupp time to respond to this clear insult. She pushed open Tammy’s door and went right on in. She left the door slightly ajar so that Krupp could hear what was going on inside, but he hung back, feeling awkward and out of place in that unfamiliar hallway. He could _feel_ the eyes of the framed family photos judging him, questioning why he was there. He’d gone from being a school principal to being a sort of nurse’s pageboy, awaiting orders. He hated it, and yet...he didn’t leave.

 

Tammy was sitting up in bed, listening to a random drama story being told on what looked like an old radio from the 1960s, with oven mitts duct-taped to her hands.

 

“Hi, Nurse Offstill,” Tammy said, smiling weakly. Her red-rimmed eyes looked exhausted, and her skin was being suffocated by a tight pair of pretty but horribly impractical flannel pajamas.

 

Nurse Offstill smiled gently at the bedridden girl. “Hi, Tammy. How are you feeling?”

 

“Bad…these pajamas make my spots itch more. And I’m really hungry, but Mommy and Daddy have been downstairs for a while...” Tammy said, looking at her feet sullenly.

 

Offstill thought quickly. She needed food, lotion, and looser pajamas. Easy enough. “Hold on, kiddo,” Offstill told her as she crept to the door to whisper to Krupp.

 

“I’m gonna need you to head downstairs and see if you can find popsicles, ice cream, or tea down there. Some dry toast, too. And a banana. Alright, Krupp?” she asked. Krupp nodded, and slipped away, heading for the stairs.

 

“Who ya talkin’ to, Nurse Offstill?” Tammy asked from her bed.

 

“Just a friend taggin’ along and helping me. He’s a little scared of germs, so he won’t be coming in.” Nurse Offstill proceeded to address the other issue. Tammy’s unsuitable pajamas. “Do you have a different pair of pajamas, Tammy? Something looser? You’ll be soooo much more comfortable once we change you.”

 

“There’s a big tank top and some sweatpants in my top dresser drawer,” Tammy said.

 

“Perfect,” Nurse Offstill said, smiling. She retrieved the new set of pajamas, laying them out on the bed before gently removing the duct tape from Tammy’s hands. She tossed the oven mitts onto the foot of the bed.

 

Tammy slowly began to peel off her pajamas, as Nurse Offstill took some calamine cream out of her nurse’s bag. She pulled on some disposable latex-free gloves before squirting it onto her hands.

 

“Hold still, kiddo. I’m gonna put some cream onto your skin to keep the spots from itching,” she explained.

 

Tammy nodded and listened intently to the radio program get into the climax of the story as Offstill began to carefully rub calamine cream all over her, taking special care with her back, arms, stomach, and face, places especially stricken with spots.

 

Once Nurse Offstill was finished, Tammy changed into her looser pair of pajamas. “This feels so much better! Thank you, Nurse Offstill,” Tammy exclaimed happily, giving the nurse a more energetic, if still somewhat tired smile.

 

Nurse Offstill, as she was pulling off her gloves to throw away, suddenly smelled tea, signalling to her that Krupp had returned with what she’d asked for. “I’ll be right back. Climb into bed and get cozy,” she instructed Tammy, who was more than happy to comply.

 

“No ice cream,” Krupp told Offstill in the hallway. “No popsicles either. The father’s eating the last banana in the house as we speak. I got the toast, though. And the tea. It’s raspberry.”

 

“Raspberry is perfect. Thanks, Krupp,” Nurse Offstill said, taking both the mug and plate from him. “The poor kid’s famished.”

 

She disappeared back into the room with the food, and Krupp felt a strange feeling stir in his chest. He’d just...helped. He’d just helped a kid feel better rather than worse. And he _liked it._ Oh God, what was happening to him?

 

Tammy munched hungrily on the toast and slurped the tea as Offstill packed up her nurse’s bag. Before she headed out, Offstill gave some parting advice to Tammy.

 

“Tammy, listen very carefully. Don’t let your parents use duct tape for your mitts or gloves unless they tape your sleeves. Tape on your skin can burst your spots. Your parents can give you a bath with baking soda to help with the itching once you’re finished eating,” Nurse Offstill said.

 

“Alright, Nurse Offstill!” Tammy said, sounding so much more lively and rejuvenated upon getting some looser, non-constricting pajamas and some nourishment in her stomach.

 

“And tell your parents to call me if they need any more help,” Nurse Offstill added.

 

“Yes, Nurse Offstill! I will! Thank you so much!” This was said with a mouthful of toast and a gentle wave, though her eyes and most of her attention was on the radio.

 

“Bye, Tammy,” Nurse Offstill said, tip-toeing out the door. In the hallway, she wordlessly signalled to Krupp that it was time for them to leave. Krupp couldn’t be more relieved.

 

Except that Nurse Offstill decided to pay a little visit to Terrence, the Bunts’ new baby. He was in his baby carrier on a table, kicking his legs and babbling away in gibberish, as Nurse Offstill and Krupp were on their way out the door. To Krupp’s dismay, she stopped to pick him up and tickle his tummy.

 

“Look at you, you little bruiser!” she cooed, making silly faces at him while Krupp grimaced. If there was one thing that made him more uncomfortable than sick kids, it was babies. When they weren’t screaming their heads off, they were drooling. When they weren’t drooling, they were messing up their diapers. And then they howled some more. Why did people keep having them?

 

Terrence laughed at the faces Offstill pulled, and she got an idea.  “Hey, Krupp, why don’t you give holding little Terry a try?” she entreated.

 

“No,” Krupp said, shrinking away in horror at the suggestion that he hold the slobbering little giggle machine.

 

“Come on, please?” Nurse Offstill tried again. Krupp shook his head.

 

“No. Absolutely not.”

 

She switched tactics. “I double dare you to hold him.”

 

“That’s not going to work...hey!” Nurse shoved the baby in his arms before he could protest further. Clueless as to what he was supposed to do, he tried bouncing Terrance with his arm as he’d seen his mother do before. The baby boy almost immediately started bawling. Offstill, realizing her mistake, quickly took him back, and the crying instantly stopped.

 

Krupp grumbled in jealousy. It was as if the baby had known that his future principal was holding him and wanted nothing to do with the man until it was time to face him in kindergarten. Meanwhile, Offstill got more giggles and grins from the noisy little gremlin.

 

After saying goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Bunt, and giving them a paper copy of her e-mail for a more direct reference point, Nurse Offstill and Krupp headed back to their vehicles.

 

Upon leaning against his car, waiting for Offstill to finish writing some things down in her notepad, Krupp was hit with a memory from his childhood. It was him: young, sweaty, and covered in spots. It was him with the chickenpox. He was remembering something!

 

In the memory, the sun was shining brightly into the room through the open window. It was summer, and a compelling Old Time Radio Mystery was filling the room, a old-timers radio program not unlike the one he’d heard coming out of Tammy’s bedroom. Suddenly, another figure entered the scene. It was his mother with a steaming cup of hot tea.

 

“Here’s some tea, Benny. It’s blueberry, your favourite. How’s the show?” she asked him. His young self thanked her for the tea, and said that one of the main female characters was about to befall a terrible fate.   


“Oooooo. Interesting. Well, have a nice time with the show, kiddo. Call me if you need anything,” she said, before leaving the room to get back to her work. She was a seamstress with many clients. She had a stack of orders for summer frocks. But she was still making time for her pox-stricken son.  

 

Krupp felt a twinge of happiness strike him in the chest. That memory hit him at the perfect time. It was like finding the first piece of a long-forgotten puzzle. It was amazing.

 

Krupp looked over at Nurse Offstill, who was pulling the basket straps across her bag and preparing to mount her bike once again. “Hey, want me to drive you to the next house?” he asked, feeling suddenly cheery and charitable.

 

 _“No._ I mean...no thanks, I need the exercise,” Nurse Offstill said. “The next address is 1073 Marvel Street. Meet me there. I have to make a phone call.”

 

“Sure thing.” Off Krupp went in his car, and once he was out of sight, Nurse Offstill took out her cell phone and dialed the number to Harold’s house.

 

“Hello, Ms. Hutchins? It’s Denise Offstill. I wanted to ask you...would it be alright if I brought a plus one with me to dinner tonight? I know it’s last-minute, but he’s helping me out today, and he doesn’t have anything to do later, so...”

 

Ms. Hutchins cheerfully responded with, “Of course! Anyone you bring is welcome! The more the merrier! You’ve been such a big help while the boys have been sick!”

 

“Thank you so much, Ms. Hutchins. See you at six,” Nurse Offstill said, hanging up and throwing herself over her bike like an experienced jockey.

 

“Guess who’s joining me at Harold Hutchins’ house for dinner this evening?” Offstill chipperly announced to Krupp as she pulled up at their meeting spot, ringing her bell.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Krupp exclaimed in exasperation. “First you shove a baby at me, now you’re dragging me to _their_ houses?! This isn’t what I signed up for!”

 

“Oh, come on!” Offstill cried. “You need to eat dinner like everyone else, don’t you? I know you have no other plans tonight, so you might as well just roll with it. Besides, Ms. Hutchins has extended an invitation to you. She’s a nice woman and a good hostess. You wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would you?”

 

Krupp grumbled, but she was right, he had literally nothing better to do with his time. He might as well. And it would be rude not to accept. He couldn’t afford to be rude to the parents.

 

But still, he made one last attempt at arguing, just for the sake of it. “Those boys hate me, Offstill.”  


“They’re sick. You probably won’t even see them,” Nurse Offstill argued back, chuckling.

 

“I’ve...I’ve never been to a student’s house for dinner,” he admitted. No parent had ever invited him before. He’d eaten _with_ parents, at PTA events organized by the school, at the school, but never before had he done something as intimate as this. It wouldn’t be a big set up in the gymnasium, with folding tables and food made by Edith or a caterer. It would be the parent’s house, the parent’s table, the parent’s food. He would be purely and simply a guest, not a principal presiding over things. He would have to flatter and praise and not make a mess or cause any trouble. He had to admit, the prospect of it was nerve-wrecking.

 

“It’ll be fine.” Offstill could see that Krupp was anxious about being this personal with the parents of his students, but she wanted him to experience this. He needed to know what it feels like to be connected with his students. They’d made a start in Tammy’s house, but they had a long way to go.

 

“You’ll thank me for making dinner arrangements later, when you’re starving at the end of this. Nurse’s work is hungry work,” Offstill told him. “Now...shall we? This family’s a doozy.”

 

Krupp turned to look at the house. He realized suddenly that he knew which family this was. This was the house of the Malochin family. They had three children: one in first grade, one in fourth grade, and one in sixth grade. They were also expecting another baby. Krupp knew all this because all three school-age kids had records on his desk one day for counseling, because their parents had been arguing nonstop about their fearsome, controlling grandmother, who was staying with the family because her apartment building caught fire. _Hoo boy._   


Krupp tentatively headed with Offstill to the front door. She, on the other hand, was all confidence as she rang the doorbell. The moment Mrs. Malochin opened it, a muggy blast of sweltering heat washed over the principal and nurse. It was like getting hit in the face with a wet, hot towel.

 

Krupp coughed and blinked rapidly to get the humidity out of his eyes. “Lord Almighty,” he thought. “Is this a suburban house or a Turkish bath?”

 

Offstill, as always, had come prepared. She pulled a handkerchief out of her coat pocket to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed on her face while Krupp had to make due with his sleeve. She smiled sweetly at the lady of the house and asked, “Hello, Mrs. Malochin. How are you today?”  

 

 Mrs. Malochin looked utterly exhausted, holding her head while the sound of Mr. Malochin’s yelling filled the background.

 

“Oh, hello, Nurse Offstill...and, um, Principal Krupp...what brings you her—Ian! That’s enough! Let her ramble!”

 

The school nurse and principal both jumped at the mother’s sudden shouting. She sighed. “My apologies. What brings you here?” Mrs. Malochin tried again. Nurse Offstill looked at the sweaty, dead-tired, and not to mention _pregnant_ mother with extreme concern and knowingness. Krupp was just plain dumbfounded.  

 

“We were just in the neighbourhood on some school-related business and we wanted to check on Hazel, Jeremy and Elizabeth, to see how they’re doing. We know things have been hectic for your family lately, with your mother-in-law moving in, and the new baby on the way, so we thought we could help. Can we come in?” Nurse Offstill asked.

 

“Of course! Come on in…sorry about the shouting back there… she’s driving us up the wall a little bit, _just a teeny tiny bit,”_ Mrs. Malochin said, trying to look like she wasn’t being driven insane. She seemed relieved by Offstill’s offer to help. From the looks of it, she hadn’t gotten any real help from anyone in a long time.

 

Nurse Offstill nodded, and headed inside with Krupp. Krupp glanced at the thermometer and noticed, with simultaneous amazement and dread, that the heat was on high, at about 79 to 83 degrees. He also noticed that not only were all the windows in the house closed, the fans were off as well. It was ridiculously hot inside the house. He quickly yanked off his jacket, and Offstill did the same with her stylish coat. He noticed for the first time that she wasn’t wearing her nurse’s uniform underneath but rather a plain white-collared shirt and black skirt that went to her stockinged knees. For a brief moment, he stared at her. He was so used to seeing her in the all-white school nurse’s uniform, with her official little hat with the red cross pinned to her head, that the sight of her in civilian clothes felt almost unnatural. It was like when kids took colouring pages and gave people blue skin or made the sun purple. It disturbed him but there was nothing he could do about it.

 

Mrs. Malochin leaned against a table to give her aching back a break and took a deep breath. Collecting her thoughts, she opened her mouth to speak again. “Jeremy and Elizabeth are camping out with Hazel in her room. It’s upstairs, the door with the pink butterflies on it. I read your e-mail, and I’ve been trying to follow your advice, but a special pain in my neck is keeping me from doing it.”

 

Nurse Offstill nodded, and she signalled to a red-faced and perspiring Krupp to follow her upstairs. They found the room with the white door and pastel pink and yellow butterflies and, after knocking and gaining clearance, let themselves in. Waiting for them inside were three kids soaked with sweat, completely red, and covered from head to toe in spots. They looked like the epitome of misery, and the suffering on their faces deepened further when they saw their detested principal.

 

“Hey guys… how are you feeling?” Nurse Offstill asked quickly, to draw their attention from Krupp to herself.

 

“Terrible! Gramma won’t let us open any windows, and she put weights on them so none of us can try!” Elizabeth, the oldest of the three children complained bitterly.

  
“Jesus Christ,” Mr. Krupp thought. Was the woman insane? Was she trying to cook her grandkids alive? As he tugged desperately at his sweater’s collar, which kept sticking to his neck, he thought of that children’s story where a witch tries to lure a young boy and girl into an oven. He used to think those kids were idiots. Now, standing here in this sauna with these three helpless youngsters, he was wondering if maybe they’d felt like they didn’t have a choice.

 

“Krupp, I’m gonna need you to open that window right there, alright?” Nurse Offstill asked. Krupp nodded immediately. She didn’t need to ask him twice. At the window he tossed aside the weights and began to pry the window open, for his own sake as much as everyone else’s, because he was beginning to feel faint from the heat. It was very stiff, but he got it halfway, letting a refreshing and liberating gust of cool winter air into the room. All three kids gave a long sigh of relief as the nice crisp breeze passed them and cooled their blistering skin. Krupp gave a sigh of relief as well, and mopped his brow with his forearm.

 

Nurse Offstill took all three kids and went with them to find Mrs. Malochin, so that they could give them a cool bath with baking soda. Krupp, without being asked, went around to the other bedrooms and started opening more windows, because one just wasn’t going to cut it. Gradually, the upper floor of the house began to cool down, reaching a tolerable temperature.

 

In the bathroom, each child was given a cup of cold water each, which they gulped down desperately without stopping for a breath. Then Nurse Offstill and the children’s mother peeled of their sweat-drenched pajamas and then gently lifted them into the bathtub. Hearing their sighs of relief and enjoyment made Nurse Offstill grin with delight. Mrs. Malcohin’s smile, directed at Nurse Offstill, was one of gratitude.

 

As Nurse Offstill stood over the sink, splashing cold water on her own overheated face, she reminded Mrs. Malochin to pat the children dry when they were done. Rubbing would tear skin off their spots and make them itch more.

Mrs. Malochin nodded happily in agreement. “Yes, yes nurse, you’re absolutely right…”

 

“And how are you doing, Betty?” Offstill asked, eyeing the other woman’s baby bump.

 

“Alright, now, thanks to you.” Offstill smiled with satisfaction, and filled a cup with cold water for the expectant mother. Another job well done.

 

Well, it _was_ a job well done...until Mr. Malochin and his mother brought their argument upstairs, and the disagreeable woman peeked inside Hazel’s bedroom and started screaming.

 

“Who opened the window?!” she shrieked, darting her head in the direction of the bathroom. Rolling up her sleeves, she prepared to give her foolish daughter-in-law a piece of her mind. What right did she have to defy her orders? She was the experienced one, not her. She’d raised her children _without_ all the handouts young parents got these days. She knew best!

 

“Loretta, for God’s sake! Keeping the windows closed isn’t reasonable!” Mrs. Malochin called from the bathroom. It was almost a plea. She stepped out of the bathroom and came face-to-face with her furious mother-in-law. “They have fevers and they need to be kept in a cool environment! Their school nurse says—”

 

“School nurse?! What are they good for?! Sticking band-aids on kids’ knees, that’s what! Anyone can do that! I’m their grandmother, and I say—” Two Malochin women began a shouting match, with Mrs. Malochin insisting on keeping the children cool while her mother-in-law demanded that the windows be closed again to prevent the children from getting a chill. Nurse Offstill, at first, merely watched and rolled her eyes at the older woman’s stubborn ignorance, before calling out to her with her own response, slicing right through the wearisome argument that was clearly going nowhere.

 

“Mrs. Malochin...Loretta, I mean, not you, Betty...with all due respect...that doesn’t make any sense. The windows being open will give the children a chance to cool down, to make sure their fevers stay under control,” Nurse Offstill explained.

 

“And _who_ are you?!” Loretta Malochin spat. “What are you doing in my house?!”

 

“I’m that school nurse who’s only good for bandaging kids’ knees,” Nurse Offstill answered dryly. “And if I recall correctly, ma’am, this is not your house. It’s your son’s house.”   


Krupp, who was hanging back at the end of the hallway, watching the scene unfold, decided it was best for him not to interfere. Discreetly, he stepped sideways into the parents’ bedroom, concealing most of himself from the frightful grandmother’s sight as he leaned his head out to witness what would happen next. He suspected that it wasn’t going to be pretty, but he would bet his money on Offstill winning this one. Unless the other woman was a trained nurse, she didn’t have a chance in the world against Offstill’s fiery wit and knowledge.

 

“You young people think that because you’re living in this fancy ‘Golden Age of Technology’ that you’re soooo smart! You think you know more about parenting than us experienced parenting veterans! But you’ve got another thing coming!” the mother-in-law barked, stomping her left foot on the ground with the end of each sentence like a petulant child.

 

Nurse Offstill laughed. “I think I know more about taking care of sick children than you, considering I’ve been a pediatric nurse for fourteen years and counting,” she said, daring this woman to continue with her embarrassing quibbling.

 

“But I’ll bet you don’t have children!” the older woman snarled, ready to have the longest, most drawn out battle of wills in history.

 

“I don’t,” Offstill admitted. “But what exactly does that have to do with this?”

 

“You’re not a mother, so you don’t know what children need! You have no _instinct,”_ the other woman argued snootily. Nurse Offstill rolled her eyes once more, shaking her head in exasperated disbelief. Was this demon of a mother-in-law really going to try to start a “woman with children vs. childless woman” debate with her? It was stupid. Unbelievably stupid. She didn’t have time for this. She and Krupp had other kids to visit. She was going to have to tear her down fast. She knew how.   


“Oh, I have lots of instincts, ma’am. Social instincts, to be precise. Here’s one. You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s called _respecting parental boundaries.”_

 

“She’s done for,” Mr. Krupp thought as he watched the older woman go pale. Offstill had her claws out. This was going to get good. He was starting to wish that he had some popcorn.

 

“Your son and your daughter-in-law don’t want you to be in charge of what they do with their children, especially when they’re following the advice of a medical professional,” Nurse Offstill went on, firmly and coldly. Without mercy. “You don’t have any say-so in that situation. You have no rights. Zero. Zilch. _You are a guest in their house,_ and it is not your place to try and parent these children. They are miserable, and need to be taken care of properly to recover. All your idiotic little remedy method was doing was dehydrating those kids to death, and running up the gas bill.”

 

Mrs. Malochin had shut the bathroom door, so the children couldn’t hear a word of what was being said. She herself was grinning as widely as possible. Salvation had come. Someone was finally going to get through to her mother-in-law.

 

“I’m going to give you two options, Loretta,” Nurse Offstill was saying now. The ice in her voice could freeze the Earth’s core. It brought a chill to the hallway faster than any of the open windows. “You either go downstairs, turn down the heat, and leave it like that, _or_...I’m going to call the police, who will come and escort you off the premises for trying to harm your grandchildren. I’m prepared to testify in court if I have to, and they’ll take my word over yours, because I’m a trained nurse, and you’re a bad-tempered narcissist. Anyone can see that. Now choose.”

 

Nurse Offstill’s words, and her threat, had forced Loretta Malochin into a state of shock. She was completely silent, as was everyone else present at the scene. Mrs. Malochin had her hand over her mouth. Mr. Malochin’s eyes looked ready to pop right out of his head. Krupp’s mouth was hanging open. He knew he shouldn’t be that surprised. Offstill threatened to call the school board on him all the time. But still... that was _savage._

 

Time seemed to stand still as everyone waited for something to happen, for Loretta to make a decision. The clock in the hallway ticked, and the atmosphere grew colder as more wintry air blew in from the open windows. Then, without saying another word, to either Nurse Offstill or the parents, the defeated grandmother headed downstairs, face still painted with disbelief and even a hint of shame, to turn down the heat.

 

Nurse Offstill sighed, and turned to Mr. and Mrs. Malochin. “I’m sorry it had to come to that.”

 

“We’re sorry too,” was all Mr. Malochin said in response. Though she had just threatened to call the police on his mother, the wearied father and husband had no feelings of anger towards Offstill. “Thank you, nurse.”

 

The walk back to their respective vehicles was awkward, for both Krupp and Nurse Offstill. This time, Krupp didn’t offer Offstill a ride to the next house. Though she had a face of stone, he could tell she was inwardly fuming and that she was not in the mood to be asked anything. So he just silently got in his car and, like an obedient lapdog, followed her to wherever the next sick kid in need was.

 

While driving, Krupp got another quick flash of memory. It was still him when he had the chickenpox as a child, but his mother was giving him a bath. The tub was full of cool water that had been run through a pair of tights with oatmeal in them. The smell was comforting, and the bath itself was refreshing. His mother had put him in there because it had gotten too warm for him in the living room, even with the window open, even with the fan whirling.   

 

“Oh, what a hot summer this is! My poor Benny!” Mrs. Krupp wailed as she dropped some ice cubes into the tub. He grabbed one and squeezed it in his hand, feeling it melt quickly against his palm. “We’ve  _ got _ to keep down that fever of yours, or who knows what’ll happen?” 

 

Krupp, in the present day, cracked a tiny smile. He was in awe of all the memories he was uncovering. He wondered what surprises (and parenting horrors) the next house would bring. 


	4. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krupp and Offstill, on their adventure visiting more houses and caring for more miserably ill children in need of attention. Krupp's having to come to terms with his own memories and internal thoughts in order to push through and grow closer to his students.
> 
> co-written by http://guiltyhipster.tumblr.com/

Upon arriving at the next house, in a wealthier district, Krupp could also remember who the sick child of the family was. He was a third grader. He lived with both parents, but his father was always out of town on some big business trip or something, and his mother...who was notoriously not the brightest bulb in the box...was trying to juggle him and his two-year-old little sister. His name was...Olive? No, Oliver. Oliver Addams. 

 

Krupp got out of his car, and joined Nurse Offstill at the end of the long driveway that led up to the house. 

 

“I know Mrs. Addams,” he said to her. “She came to a PTA meeting last November and asked Ms. Anthrope what PTA stood for. She thought PTA was a disease from Africa we were all getting together to discuss.” 

 

“She also thinks ‘common cold’ and ‘uncommon cold’ are two separate illnesses,” Nurse Offstill added, with a hint of a smile. “Not the kind of person you can trust with a kid with chickenpox, is she?” 

 

Krupp looked around the upper middle class neighbourhood, with all its prim, magazine cover houses, and frowned. “You’d think they’d be able to afford a nanny.” 

 

“If you were a nanny, would you want to work for someone like Mrs. Addams?” Nurse Offstill asked, not waiting for his answer before she began to make her way up the driveway with her bag. He followed closely behind. 

 

The famous Mrs. Addams herself opened the door. She had platinum blonde hair and a sparkling bleached smile that screamed high school prom queen. The house was relatively quiet, other than the sound of Oliver retching in the background, which made both Nurse Offstill and Mr. Krupp cringe.  

 

“Oooooh, hello, nurse! Principal Krupp! It’s sooooo nice to see you! How can I help you?” Mrs. Addams asked, sweet as honey. Either she didn’t hear her son puking his guts out somewhere behind her or she was actively ignoring it. 

 

“Principal Krupp and I are here to check on Ollie, to make sure he’s doing alright.” Nurse Offstill. “Standard procedure with all kids who are absent from school with the chickenpox.” 

 

Mrs. Addams blinked cluelessly. “It is?” 

 

“Oh, yes,” Offstill continued, craning her neck a little to try and spot Ollie over his mother’s shoulder. “We’re going in alphabetical order. Your last name is Addams, so you’re practically first. Lucky you.” 

 

Krupp almost burst out laughing, but he played along, keeping on his rigid and serious principal’s face. 

 

“Oooooh, lucky me, indeed! Come in, come in!” the dumb blonde urged, waving the principal and school nurse inside. “Ollie’s upstairs in the bathroom. I was in the kitchen trying to make him some more soup, but I don’t know how much salt to put in and the can’s not telling me.” She sighed. “And he keeps throwing it up, so I have to keep making more. I’ve gone through six cans!” 

 

Nurse Offstill, in an instant, rushed upstairs, faster than any marathoner running for charity has ever bolted up a hill before. Krupp, looking at the counter in the luxury kitchen, was horrified to discover that Mrs. Addams wasn’t exaggerating. There really were six empty cans of Campbell’s tomato soup, along with a large value-sized container of salt. His heart started pounding. Even he knew that it was a bad idea to eat salty foods when you were sick. It messed with your stomach acids or something. 

 

He watched Mrs. Addams place two more cans in a pot on the stove, without adding any water to dilute it, and then pouring what seemed to be a quarter of the salt container in with it, humming to a random tune as she stirred the substance with a wooden spoon. 

 

“This woman’s an imbecile,” he thought incredulously. Without another word to her, he raced upstairs to see for himself what damage had been done. 

 

“Ollie? You okay, buddy?” He heard Nurse Offstill ask. The door was ajar and he could see Ollie, head hanging wretchedly over the toilet bowl. Rubbing his back with one hand, she signalled to Krupp with the other to stay in the hallway, which stank of vomit. 

 

“It hurts so baaaaad,” Oliver moaned, clutching his stomach. “And there are spots in my mouth! It burned when I ate earlier!” 

 

Nurse Offstill shook her head in dismay. The poor kid, having to deal with this because his royal ditz of a mother was hardly aware of her surroundings. The woman had no common sense, or logic. She couldn’t even follow blatant directions on the back of a can. She looked down into the toilet bowl. It looked like a murder scene in there, all red and dripping with expelled tomato soup. What a mess. She’d come right on time. 

 

“It’s alright, kiddo. I’ve got something that will make you feel better,” Nurse Offstill said, fishing a bottle of stomach medicine out of her nurse’s bag. She carefully measured out the right amount in the cap and got him to knock it back, along with a swallow of water for the unpleasant taste. Now, it was only a matter of waiting to see if he could keep it down. 

 

Mr. Krupp, scowling, left the scene unnoticed by Ollie and stormed downstairs to the kitchens, where Mrs. Addams was stirring the pot and still humming that incessant tune. 

 

“Hey!” she cried out when he reached out and turned off the stove. “I’m trying to make soup for my son! He’s hungry!” 

 

“No, he’s not,” Krupp growled. “He just threw up. You don’t feed someone who just threw up.  _ And you don’t put extra salt in tomato soup. _ There’s already enough salt in one can to defrost your driveway!” 

 

With a dishrag wrapped around the handle, he dumped the tomato soup in the sink as Mrs. Addams stood aside, gaping like a bewildered fish in its bowl. Then he took the empty cans of soup and tossed them into a recycling bin. 

 

“But...I bought so many cans...what am I going to do with the rest?” she asked. 

 

“Donate them to the school’s next food drive.” They’d had one right before Christmas for the local homeless shelters and there was no occasion to hold another...but he’d come up with something. An early start for Easter, perhaps. 

 

Nurse Offstill came downstairs shortly after Krupp had laid waste to the salty soup, to boil water for the hot water bottle she’d packed in her nurse’s bag. Once the kettle was put on, she turned to Mrs. Addams and lay down the law. 

 

“Mrs. Addams… you  _ can’t _ give Ollie soup from a can. There are a lot of spots in his mouth, and that tomato soup is so salty, it’s irritating him. It’s like getting hand sanitizer on a paper cut. It  _ stings. _ He needs smoother, saltless food, like sugar free popsicles, or bananas. Low sodium cheese. Jello. That sort of thing. 

 

“Ooooh, maybe thaaaaat's why Ollie was having such a hard time eating! Thanks, nurse! I wish I had a sheet of your advice to help me out while Ollie’s sick!” Mrs. Addams chirped. 

 

“I  _ did _ send out an e-mail to all the parents,” Nurse Offstill reminded her, exchanging a look with Krupp. Mrs. Addams seemed confused, and tilted her head to the left. 

 

“ _ E _ -mail? I thought it was ‘i-mail.’ You know, like an iPhone or an iPod? I knew it had to be one of the vowels. Either way, I can’t open up that letter whenever I’m on my computer or phone,” Mrs. Addams said. 

 

“What letter?” Nurse Offstill asked. 

 

“You know, that little envelope that looks like it’s like a letter for you? No matter how many times I try to open it with my mouse or my finger, it won’t open! It just takes me to some white page full of little notes, but no actual letter!” Mrs. Addams complained. 

 

Both Offstill and Krupp were now struggling to contain their groans of disbelief over this woman’s obliviousness, as well as their laughter at this woman’s confusion about e-mail. Krupp, for a moment, felt like he didn’t really have the right to laugh. He’d been pretty clueless about his new iPhone when he’d gotten it. But at least he had the audacity to ask Melvin to show him how to use it, instead of letting himself struggle with all the apps and settings. Mrs. Addams could have gone to all Apple store, or asked any young person with half a brain, to explain to her how emails worked on phones and computers. But she hadn’t. And as a result, she nearly poisoned her kid. 

 

The kettle screeched. The water had boiled. Krupp offered to fill it while Offstill went to fetch a paper print out of her e-mail for Mrs. Addams. 

 

“Here you go,” she said, “Everything you need to know on how to take good care of Ollie. If you’re confused about anything else, call me. If I’m not available, call the local clinic.  _ And don’t feed Ollie anymore soup. _ I can’t stress that enough.” 

 

“I’ll be sure to do that! Thanks, Nurse Offstill!” Mrs. Addams exclaimed brightly, grinning and putting her unnaturally white teeth on display.  Somehow, Mrs. Addams was able to read and understand the instructions on a box of teeth whitening strips, but not on the back of a can of soup. It was a whole new level of baffling. 

 

Ollie was tucked into bed, and once the hot water bottle was administered to his abdomen, there was nothing left for the principal and school nurse to do but bid farewell to the mind-boggling Mrs. Addams. 

 

“I knew she was dumb,” Krupp remarked to Offstill as they made their way back down the driveway. “But I didn’t think she was  _ that  _ dumb.” 

 

“Would you believe me if I told you I’d seen worse at the hospital?” Much, much worse. It made her shudder just to think of how moronic some parents were capable of being. 

 

“Don’t tell me about it. What I just saw is still sinking in.” They reached his car and her bike. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” he asked once again. 

 

“Nope. No need. The next house is right down the street,” Nurse Offstill stated. “It’s the one with the Christmas lights still up. Let’s go.” 

 

Clutching the handle of her nurse’s bag, she began to speed-walk her way to their new destination. While Krupp struggled to keep up with her brisk strides, another memory flashed through his mind. This time, he was lying on the arms of the couch, holding his abdomen in pain, his mother approaching him with a bottle of medicine and some more tea. 

 

“I’ve got something to make your tummy feel better, Benny,” his mother told him, spooning a mouthful of medicine between his lips, before gently rubbing his stomach and kissing him on the cheek. “No more saltine crackers for you, young man! Now drink your tea so you can flush all that salt out!” 

 

Krupp was finally getting somewhere with this puzzle, and he smiled, as he finally caught up to Offstill in front of the house. He knew the name of this kid as well. She was a fourth grader, though not one in George and Harold’s class. Her parents seemed to always be late picking her up from school, and always needed that extra phone call to pick her up when she was sick. Yet another set of parental failures. Krupp’s mind was already trying to guess what might be wrong in this house, what form of neglect was hindering the kid’s already treacherous journey towards recovery. He was, admittedly, scared to find out. 

 

The little girl was always being picked up by her high school junior aged older sister. Her name was Laura. Laura Matthews. Her older sister, as Krupp had learned about three weeks prior to this outbreak, was named Leia, after Princess Leia from Star Wars (a tragically suitable name for a girl with such perpetually absent parents). The two girls had also recently had a baby brother added to their family. His name was Liam. 

 

Krupp followed Nurse Offstill to the front door and held his breath as Nurse Offstill rang the doorbell. His fears and suspicions were not unfounded. A disheveled Leia opened the door, cradling a sleeping Liam in one arm. Her eyes were sorely red-rimmed and puffy. She looked like she had been crying. 

 

“H-hello Nurse Offstil…Principal Krupp...sorry about looking a mess...Uhhh… I assume you’re here to see Laura?” Leia asked, running a hand through her hair and taking a shuddering inhale. Krupp thought she looked as sick as any kid with the pox. She was only missing the spots. 

 

“Yeah, we’re here to see how Laura’s doing, but… are  _ you _ alright? Where are your parents?” Nurse Offstill asked worriedly, resting a hand on Leia’s shoulder. 

 

“I’ll...explain in a moment. You both can come in. I have to go change Liam. Laura’s in her room upstairs,” Leia said, rather absentmindedly, as if she were thinking of a million different things at once. She probably was. 

 

Once the visitors were inside, Leia hurried off into the first floor bathroom to change Liam, who was about to start bawling. Nurse Offstill headed upstairs to go check on Laura, while Krupp waited downstairs, looking around the house. It was an utter disaster. Clothes and boxes were strewn everywhere, the floor was littered with food crumbs, a tall stack of dirty dishes lay ignored in the sink, and there was a terrible stench coming from the garbage, which hadn’t yet been taken out. Krupp figured that while he was waiting he might as well try to tidy up a bit. He had nothing better to do, and Offstill hadn’t yet given him any tasks. He found a broom, a garbage bag, and some wet wipes in the front hall closet and went at it. 

 

Nurse Offstill came downstairs far sooner than he’d expected. “Laura’s well taken care. I didn’t have to do anything.” She explained that she had found Laura leaned against a few pillows on her bed, sipping from a mug of hot strawberry tea, and covered in aqueous calamine cream. She’d been given the right cough medicine and the right children’s Tylenol. She was wearing a light, oversized t-shirt that was nice and loose and didn’t rub on her skin. Her room was cool, and a fan at her bedside was keeping her body temperature under control. She’d been fed unsalted scrambled eggs and plain brown toast for lunch and had enough appetite left over to ask for some red Jello. Everything was perfect. Offstill couldn’t ask for a more well looked after patient. 

 

“Leia’s done a fantastic job. Really living up to her name,” Offstill remarked. Both she and Krupp silently decided not to point out how sad it was that the only competent caregiver they’d encountered all day was a teenager.  

 

“Well, that’s probably because of this.” Krupp pointed at the fridge. On it, held with a smiley face magnet, was a print out of Offstill’s email. On it, someone...presumably Leia...had made notes on it with pencil and underlined specific words and phrases. 

 

“Okay. Now you have to apologize to me for getting mad about me writing it,” Offstill said, as she opened up her nurse’s bag and searched around for something. “Go on.” 

 

“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath, as he scrunched up a used wet wipe that he had used to clean the kitchen counter and tossed it into the open garbage bag he was using. The regular bin was already overflowing. 

 

“Aha!” Offstill cried triumphantly as she extracted a box from her bag. “I knew I packed an extra! It just fell to the bottom!” 

 

It was a box of Jello mix. Raspberry flavoured. Krupp’s mouth dropped open.  _ “How _ are you always prepared for everything?!” 

 

“It’s all part of being a nurse.” She smirked at him. “On a scale from one to Mrs. Addams, how bad are you at reading instructions on food items?” 

 

“I can make Jello,” he huffed indignantly, snatching the box from her. “And I’ll finish up in here. You go help Leia, and find out what the hell happened to Mr. and Mrs. Matthews.” 

 

Nurse Offstill found Leia dozing off on the closed toilet seat in the first floor bathroom while Liam was in his baby carrier, freshly changed and squirming with contentment. Offstill, gently and a little reluctantly, shook Leia awake and asked her again where her parents were. 

 

“Oh… t-they… they headed out of town...about a day after Laura came home sick,” Leia said, trying to blink back tears. But her exhausted eyes could not hold them back. They fell onto her cheeks, and Offstill passed her a strip of toilet paper to dab them away with. 

 

“Why did they leave town, Leia? What it a family emergency? A business trip?” Nurse Offstill asked, confused and more than a little enraged. What were those parents  _ thinking,  _ leaving a teenage girl alone with a sick child and a small infant? Didn’t they even think to hire an older babysitter, or ask a relative or neighbour to come over and help? 

 

“They… they left because their friends invited them to head up to Maine on vacation for a week. They packed their bags, told me to watch Laura and Liam, and left, just like that,” Leia said. “They said that I owed them. They missed their vacation last year when I broke my thumb. They left enough money for groceries and stuff, and your email has helped me a lot, but it’s been so hard, and I...I…” 

 

She burst into tears, and Offstill pulled her into a hug. “Oh, God, kiddo, I’m so sorry. If it means anything, you’re doing an amazing job with your sister. She’s doing great. I’d recommend you to nurse’s college any day.”  

 

She let Leia sob it out a bit, not minding the mess it made on her coat, and afterwards washed her face with a wet washcloth and gave her more toilet paper to blow her nose with. 

 

“T-Thank you,” Leia hiccupped, crushing the wad of soiled tissues into a ball in her hand. “I’m glad  _ someone’s _ noticing all the work I’m doing.” 

 

“Principal Krupp’s noticed too,” Offstill told her. “He wants to help you too. He’s tidying up the kitchen as we speak.” 

 

A look of confusion fell upon the girl’s face. “But...Laura told me that he’s mean.” 

 

Offstill made a vague notion with her hands. “Well, he is, but like...selectively mean.” 

 

“We moved to Piqua when I was in seventh grade, so I never had him as a principal,” she said. “I guess Laura was exaggerating. She always exaggerates. Kids think everything is the end of the world.” 

 

“You’d be surprised how often they’re right,” Offstill said, helping Leia to her feet. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some tea and then we’ll sort this whole mess out.” 

 

Krupp had just finished wash and towel-drying the last dish when Offstill and Leia, carrying Liam’s carrier, came in. Leia seemed amazed by how much better a state the kitchen and front hall were in, and, after setting Liam down on the now-clean counter, stood staring around while Offstill put the kettle on. Suddenly, Liam started crying, and Krupp, to Offstill’s surprise and his own, went over to him. 

 

The Bunt family’s baby had been a fat, thriving stripling. This one was tiny, a runt in comparison. There was probably several months’ age difference, but still, Krupp couldn’t believe how small Liam was. 

 

Looking at Leia, he wordlessly asked whether or not he could pick him up. Leia gave him a nod, signalling her approval. 

 

“Careful, Krupp. He’s little. Make sure you hold his head. He’s got no neck muscles,” Nurse Offstill reminded him. Krupp nodded, rather nervously, in response, gently lifting Liam out of the carrier. 

 

Once Krupp was cradling Liam securely in his arms, Liam stopped crying, gradually easing down into sniffles and then a curious gurgle as he gazed up at the strange man holding him. Krupp looked shocked, before his mouth twitched into an awkward, involuntary, but genuinely pleased half-smile. A baby finally liked him. 

 

Offstill pressed a piping hot cup of tea into Leia’s hands and then left the kitchen to call the Matthews parents. Once she had Mrs. Matthews on the phone, Nurse Offstill began to verbally rip her and her husband to shreds, having to leave the house and step in the backyard in order to explain  _ specifically  _ why leaving their teenager with the responsibility of caring for both their ill child and their nearly newborn baby was beyond asking too much. It was downright criminal. 

 

“I’ve seen lazy parents, but what you two are is on a whole other plane. You’re  _ disgusting,” _ she spat. 

 

She finished off her tirade by letting them know that if they didn’t return home immediately, she would be calling both the police and Child Protective Services. 

 

“I could do it right now. You deserve to lose your kids,” she went on. “But I won’t. I’m giving you two once last chance to get your act together. Now starting packing your bags.” 

 

Mr. and Mrs. Matthews both replied with pleading and compliance, saying that they’d be heading home immediately. “Oh God, please don’t call the police! Everyone will see! Everyone will know!” 

 

“I’m sure they don’t think much of you already.” Nurse Offstill, without saying goodbye, hung up on them and headed back inside to check up on Laura one more time. As she passed by the kitchen, she saw Leia and Krupp over the kitchen counter, preparing the Jello with the remainder of the water Offstill had boiled. Krupp was stirring and squinting at the instructions on the box while Leia peered into the bowl, supposedly, supervising the process. Liam was back in the carrier, fast asleep. 

 

“So you just put it in the fridge and that’s it?” Krupp was asking. “It’s that easy? Wow. No wonder parents keep feeding their kids this stuff.” 

 

“Didn’t your parents give you Jello when you were a kid?” Leia asked. 

 

“No. My mother didn’t trust instant stuff. She made grape jelly sometimes, though. Put it in doughnuts.” 

 

“Mmmmmm. That sounds delicious,” Leia said. 

 

“It was. In the morning, at breakfast, she had to spread it on everyone’s toast herself, because if she didn’t my brother and I would fight over it…” 

 

It was odd, but very refreshing, to hear Krupp having a normal conversation with someone that didn’t involve yelling or bickering over paperwork or dishing out detention. Nurse Offstill smirked to herself as she made her way up the stairs to see Laura. Her method was working. She was humanizing him. 

 

“Hiya, kiddo, how ya doing?” she asked the sandy blonde, freckled Laura, who now had her nose in one of George and Harold’s comic books. An issue of Nurse Awesome, to be precise. It was the one where she battled the villain Flu Season, one of Offstill’s persona favourites. She’d modeled for Harold for that one. Held an empty water cooler on her shoulder and pretended it was a giant syringe while he made quick references sketches. Ms. Ribble had caught her doing it and told her she was ridiculous. Maybe she was. But she was also a superhero now, while Ms. Ribble only got to be a nasty villain. In Offstill’s eyes, that made her the winner and Ms. Ribble the loser. 

 

“Good news. Jello’s on the way,” Offstill told Laura as she fluffed the window that had been behind her back. “It’ll be about an hour because it’s setting in the fridge, but it’s worth the wait, isn’t it?” 

 

“Yeah, it is. Thank you.” Laura suddenly looked troubled. “Hey, Nurse Offstill?”

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Am I in trouble?” 

 

“What? No, of course not. What makes you ask that?” Nurse Offstill suddenly feared that Laura had heard the rather one-sided conversation she’d had with her parents. Her window, though closed, looked out onto the backyard, and Offstill may have gotten her point across to her neglectful parents a bit too loudly while standing beneath it. 

 

“I can hear Principal Krupp downstairs,” Laura explained. “Is he here to punish me for missing too much school?” 

 

“No! Oh God, Laura, no. That’s not what’s going on at all. Mr. Krupp is just here because he wanted to see if you were being taken care of properly, just like I am,” Nurse Offstill reassured her, resting a gentle hand on Laura’s head, smoothing her hair and smiling down at her. “It’s his job to make sure all the students make a full recovery so that they can go back to school and get right back to learning.” 

 

“I didn’t think he cared that much,” Laura confessed. 

 

“Yeah, me neither,” Offstill thought. “It’s been a day of surprises for everyone.” 

 

Downstairs, Krupp slipped the Jello into the fridge to solidify and then dragged the garbage bags and recycling out to the curb. As he set them down, he began to pick up on another memory, though this one was far less pleasant than the rest... 

 

His young self was lying back on the couch, listening to a jazz station on the radio. The smooth, relaxing rhythm of the saxophone was beginning to lure him to sleep, but then suddenly, his older brother walked into the room, holding the thermometer and smirking. 

 

“What’re you doing?” the sick boy asked, folding his arms and glaring. His older brother wasn’t exactly one for responsibility, or for random acts of kindness. Barney, his brother, was for lack of a better word, a dick.

 

“I wanna take your temperature since Momma’s on the phone with a client,” his brother said, dropping to his knees beside the couch and looking at the thermometer, before looking at his little brother again. 

 

“I don’t need you to take my temperature!” Krupp protested. “Go away!” 

 

Barney ignored him. “Open wide!” 

 

“No! Piss off!” Krupp cried, repeating a phrase often used by Barney and his equally dick-ish friends. 

 

“I said open up, you little twerp!” Roughly grabbing Krupp by the chin and forcing the thermometer into his unwilling mouth, Barney stood up and proudly put his hands on his hips. That would show his wimpy little brother! He chuckled, watching the pandemonium begin.  

 

The thermometer was too far back, making Krupp gag and choke. He spat it right out, and fell back against the back of the couch, coughing and sputtering. The glass thermometer shattered on the floor, with pieces flying in all directions, and Krupp bit his lip. He was scared he was going to get in trouble. It wouldn’t be fair if he did. It was all Barney’s fault! 

 

His brother didn’t seem too worried. If anything, he seemed amused, grinning with triumphant delight as their mother rushed into the room. 

 

“Benny, sweetie, what happened?! Ahhhhh! How’d the thermometer break?! How’d it get out here?!” Mrs. Krupp cried out, distraught. 

 

Barney twirled his foot in the carpet. “I wanted to help with Ben while you were busy. I didn’t mean to break it,” he lied, feigning innocence. 

 

“He’s lying!” Krupp exclaimed, after recovering from his coughing fit. “He tried to choke me!” 

 

Mrs. Krupp sighed and shook her head. 

 

“Barney,” she began sternly, to her elder son. “I know you’re a bit jealous of your brother and the attention he’s getting right now, but you need to be a big brother and act maturely about it. Your job is to help take care of him, not toy with him. Can you do that for me, please?” Mrs. Krupp spoke in a way that clearly conveyed she was telling and not asking. 

 

The memory faded away before Barney could give his answer. Krupp felt a horrible resentment rise within him. Leia’s selflessness as a big sister had made him remember that he had been saddled with the worst older sibling in the world. Barney had never gone out of his way to care for him, never stepped up to the plate when their parents were too busy to give them their full attention. There had never been any love between them, and in their adulthood they had simply gone their separate ways, expecting nothing from each other except a yearly Christmas card. Kipper, his nephew, turned out to be just like his bullying father, and though Krupp did feel some affection for him, he certainly didn’t make his uncle eager to give him some cousins. Luckily for him, Edith never brought that subject up, and he only hoped that meant she didn’t have any  _ certain expectations  _ herself, in regards to their future together. 

 

The puzzle was coming together, different facets of his experience were being tethered to each other. He couldn’t believe how many memories this day of home visits was bringing back. He also couldn’t believe that he was wasting his time thinking about Barney. He scowled. 

 

“This is all Offstill’s fault,” he thought. If he hadn’t seen her on her bicycle, if she hadn’t decided to spend the time playing the fairy-nurse for his students, he would be at home right now, warm and snug in his armchair, watching his favourite shows and enjoying his time off. But no. He’d let himself be guilt-tripped in a day of unpaid work, and now his brother’s smug teenage face was etched in his brain like something a student had carved into their desk. 

 

Offstill could tell that his mood had changed when he came back into the house. “Uh oh,” she thought, seeing his grouchy expression. His temper was paper thin; she knew that more than anyone. She had to get him out of the house before he took whatever was agitating him out on the Mathews kids. 

 

“Principal Krupp and I have to skedaddle. Are you going to be alright now, kiddo?” She quickly asked Leia, who seemed calmer and happier now that she was hydrated and the house was cleaner. 

 

“I think I’ll be fine,” she answered. “I can’t thank you both enough.” 

 

Offstill reached out and took Leia’s hand in her own, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Do you know what you’re doing for dinner?”

 

“There’s lot of food in the fridge. I’ll think of something. I’ll give Laura more toast. Would buttering it be okay if the butter’s unsalted?”

 

“Yes. That’s fine. Unsalted butter won’t hurt her. Will you email me as soon as your parents come home?” Offstill asked. “Tell me how it goes?” 

 

“Of course. I’ll tell you everything.” The camaraderie between the two women was obvious. Being caretakers of children united them. “Thank you again. It’s really,  _ really _ good to know that people out there care.” 

 

Outside, at the end of the driveway, Offstill confronted Krupp, who had only muttered a barely audible goodbye to Leia before leaving with her. 

 

“What’s wrong with you?!” she barked, jogging next to him as he stomped his way down the street to his car, which was still parked in front of Ollie’s house. “You were doing so well! What brought  _ this _ on?!” 

 

“What brought  _ what _ on?” Krupp snapped. 

 

“Whatever’s going on in your head! You look like a moody teenager! Leia’s the one in high school, not you! You have nothing to be pissed about!” 

 

“I have plenty to be pissed about!” He nearly tore open his car door to get into the driver’s seat. “Where’s the next house?!” 

 

“You’re not coming to the next house. Not while you’re like this.” Offstill was fuming as she, once again, strapped her nurse’s bag in her bike’s basket. “Cool down or go home.” 

 

Krupp sighed, and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Just...give me a minute. This is all new to me, okay? I’ve...never seen my students this close before!” 

 

Should he tell her about Barney? She had her hands on her bicycle’s handlebars, ready to throw herself over and ride off like a crusader. Her grip was tight, and impatient. No, not now. She wouldn’t listen to him now. Not when there were kids to care for. It was like that between them at the school. The students first, his business second. She threw him out of her office whenever he’d interrupted her while she was with a patient. “Out!” she’d shout before shoving him out the door and slamming it in his face. If he wanted her sympathetic ear, he’d have to wait until they were done their rounds. 

 

“The next house is 2001 Cadburry Crescent. The patient’s name is William Jennings. Meet me there when you’re ready and this storm of yours has passed,” was all Offstill said before shooting him one final warning glare and mounting her bike. She disappeared around the corner at the end of the street in no time; she was a fast biker, especially when she had an important destination to reach. Krupp remained in his car and hesitated. 

 

Pressing his forehead against the hard, cool steering wheel, he considered his options, which the school nurse had presented to him quite clearly. Cool down or go home. Half of him wanted to go home, to give up on this whole ridiculous circus of crazy parents and go back to being the principal keeping a professional distance. The other half of him knew he couldn’t. He’d seen too much to be indifferent now. Melvin, Tammy, the Malochin kids, Ollie, the Mathews...they were all part of the dark underworld of negligence that he’d been blissfully unaware of until now. Nurse Offstill had forced his eyes open the same way she forced him to leave her office when his presence didn’t suit her or her patient. That damn woman. She knew he wasn’t going home.  _ He _ knew he wasn’t going home. He was going to see the rest of this nightmare through and then go to dinner at the Hutchins house because if he didn’t, he’d be no better than his monstrous brother, shoving thermometers down throats for the sadistic pleasure of it. Doing nothing was as good as harming, he saw that now. 

 

He started his car, looking up the road at Leia’s house while the engine sputtered. “2001 Cadburry Crescent,” he echoed to himself as he pressed down on the gas pedal. William Jennings. He knew that name. That was the kid who was easily distracted. Krupp and the other teachers always found him wandering around the halls, having forgotten where he was supposed to be or what he was supposed to be looking for. He was constantly losing his things...half the stuff in the Lost and Found box was his. He kept taking other kids’ supplies, mistaking them for his own, and explosive arguments would ensue. Strangely enough, he memorized dates and names in history class without a problem. His parents were divorced. 

 

Oh God, he had to get there fast. 


End file.
